Onward Poem by JAY WALK

The eclipse passed
when I
was sleeping so
I couldn't see.

She played across
cities pickled in
money that leaked from steel
pipes, searching for
eyes of lost children.

She played through
smoke-tainted
skies; each
coercing that they'd never
seen a prettier tomorrow.

She played the sea,
with green-tusked whales of
sparkling blue, entangled
in films; wondering
how in the world could
a knife fill
the hole in a human heart.

She played with
the stars ever-present,
each cut out
by metal outstretched,
and wished for
the courage to see me.

And yet she couldn't,
for no longer
did her love scatter
and look over
my dreams.

And so she left.
The eclipse passed
when I was
sleeping
so that I wouldn't see.